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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686259">Pour Toujours</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/am_bellanoire'>am_bellanoire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pour Toujours [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Post-Coital Cuddling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:29:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25686259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/am_bellanoire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let's hear it then.”</p><p>Dark eyes snapped to hazel, brows furrowed. “Hear what?”</p><p>“Say something in French.”</p><p>“I will not.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Pour Toujours [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>313</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pour Toujours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione's breathing was slowly returning to normal, her lungs no longer struggling for oxygen beneath her heaving chest, her heart no longer galloped like a wild Abraxan stallion, her limbs coming back to working order no longer limp and useless things – her legs had finally stopped twitching and her core had finally stopped throbbing, leaving behind a lingering and satisfactory fullness that made her clench her thighs together with a blissful breath. <i>Merlin</i>, when her witch weaved that particular magic she conjured with nimble fingers and devilish mouth, all the while obsidian eyes framed by wild sable curls stared into her soul, the former Gryffindor was helpless but to drop her clothes and answer her body's call,  <i>submit</i> to the pleasurable torture that Bellatrix inflicted. </p><p>Said dark witch was curled against her back, front pressed to her spine, those near waist length curls engulfing them both like a rogue wave of ink, her breathing warm and soothing as it caressed a peaches and cream neck. Hermione snuggled deeper into the embrace, her own chestnut locks melding with ones of crafted from ebony. The lavish bed that supported them was softer than a cloud, the sheets more than likely too many threads of Egyptian cotton to count, a duvet filled with the finest Fwooper feathers their cocoon. </p><p>Hermione sighed softly, the sound one of utter contentment. And then, <i>seemingly</i> out of nowhere, the most random of thoughts struck her and despite the heaviness in her limbs and her eyelids that were drifting shut, she shifted in her lover's arms so that she was laying on her back, staring up at the silken canopy of their four poster. </p><p>“Why Toujours Pur?” </p><p>The words were hardly out of the brunette's mouth, all low and raspy from the abuse her vocal cords had just taken, but Bellatrix started against her as if she'd been stung by a Billywig, her body going rigid for a moment before relaxing slightly. </p><p>“What?” </p><p>“The Black family motto. It's Toujours Pur. Always pure.”</p><p>Bellatrix groaned and made a grievance of propping herself up on an elbow to properly look at her lover, dark curls spilling around her face and shoulders. Her expression, beneath the irritation that she used as a facade, seemed wary. Unsure of where this conversation was going. </p><p>“I'm aware,” she replied in a guarded tone, dark eyes locked on Hermione's face. </p><p>Hermione turned so she was properly facing Bellatrix now, sensing the discomfort, and reached under the covers to thread their fingers together. A gesture of reassurance. “I mean of course I know <i>why</i> giving the history of the family. That's not what I meant. I meant why Toujours Pur. It's French. Black isn't a French surname.”</p><p>The unease evaporated as quickly as it came and though there was still exasperation there, it held undertones of amusement and Bellatrix even chuckled as she squeezed the fingers that rested between hers. “You mean to tell me, after what I just did to you, you want a history less- what the bloody hell am I saying. Of course you do.”</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes, lips tugging upward into a smile. “You don't speak French though.” And then she paused, head tilting as she mimicked Bella's position, using her forearm to brace her weight. “Hang on, <i>do</i> you? Rosier, Lestrange. You do! Of <i>course</i>, I should have guessed.”</p><p>It was Bellatrix's turn to roll her eyes this time and she let her body flop back down onto the bed with an indignant huff. “You've been spending too much time at the Weasels' with that quarter blood siren of theirs.” </p><p>Hermione snorted at the implications and pinched Bellatrix's side earning a rather undignified squeak from the older witch and sidelong glare. “Stop it,” she muttered, pressing a kiss to a smooth alabaster cheek and let her lips linger there, “I've got a siren of my own right here.” </p><p>Bellatrix scoffed derisively but her lover could tell she was mollified by the way she leaned into the kiss and the pleased smile she tried to hide. </p><p>“Let's hear it then.”</p><p>Dark eyes snapped to hazel, brows furrowed. “Hear what?”</p><p>“Say something in French.”</p><p>“I will not.”</p><p>Hermione pouted, letting her lips trail lower until they were brushing Bella's jawline, her nose nuzzling soft warm skin, “Oh come on, please? I've never learned a second language myself, I find it fascinating.”</p><p>“Fascinating,” Bellatrix groused, though it was half arsed giving the way her lashes fluttered at her lover's gentle touch and her breath hitched in her throat,” You're such a swot.”</p><p>“Rich coming from the brightest witch of her age,” Hermione volleyed back with a giggle, “I mean, before I usurped the title of course.”</p><p>It was the brunette's turn to squeak and jump back when Bella snapped her teeth at her in a threatening but <i>affectionate</i> manner. “I can think of a thousand pretty things to say to you without putting a frog in my throat to do so, thank you.”</p><p>“No doubt you can,” Hermione said with a smile, “But I still want to hear you. One little sentence? A phrase? One tiny word?”</p><p>“Cissy speaks it better, why don't you ask her next time she has us for tea.”</p><p>“So it's a <i>family</i> thing,” the brunette heaved a sigh, her mouth forming a frown as she rolled over onto her back once more, “I know I'm not a Black. Probably never will be. But one day I want to really feel connected to your family somehow...”</p><p>There was a pregnant pause of silence. And then Bellatrix ripped away the covers, scrambling to her knees, obviously giving not one ounce of a damn that she was completely naked, face etched into a murderous scowl. </p><p>“Oh for <i>fuck's</i> sake. I could strangle her.”</p><p>“Strangle who?” Hermione asked, wide eyed and startled as she watched her lover furiously grab for her wand, trying not to become distracted by the way ample breasts swayed with the agitated movements or the way the candlelight shone against all that bare milky skin. </p><p>Bellatrix though obviously didn't hear her, or purposely drowned her out, gripping her curved walnut and dragon heartstring wand in a tight fist, “You're so sodding impatient, you know that. The both of you.” With a fluid flourish, graceful even it its lividness, she cast an unlocking spell on the wooden chest across the room, followed rapidly by a nonverbal summoning charm, catching the small object that sailed through the air in her free hand like a golden Snitch, “It was <i>supposed</i> to be a surprise.”</p><p>“Bella, what was supposed to - ?”</p><p>The dark witch rounded on her lover with a raised brow and a sneer,“Oh don't play innocent with me, pet. I know you better than that,” the brunette had the grace to look a little embarrassed at being caught, “<i>And</i> my bloody sister as well, unfortunately. Here.” And with that, she thrust the black velvet box at the younger with an unceremonious grunt. </p><p>With fingers that trembled ever so slightly, Hermione opened the box and gasped, her gaze fixed on the three stone asscher cut diamond engagement ring set in white gold, “It- it's <i>beautiful</i>,” she managed to get out over the lump in her throat and the tears that filled her eyes. </p><p>“Yeah I know it is, for Muggle jewelry,” Bellatrix said gruffly, even as she reached out to brush a salty drop from her witch's flushed cheek,  “Well?”</p><p>Hermione managed to tear her eyes from the ring for a moment, lashes wet with emotion though her expression resolute as she mimicked Bella's signature brow raise with a frighteningly uncanny ease, "Well what?”</p><p>“What's your answer?” Bellatrix demanded, starting to fidget a little, wordlessly revealing her nerves. After all that they had been through, part of her really thought she might be rejected. And though it pained the former Gryffindor to see this insecurity bleeding out of such a strong witch, she held firm. </p><p>“You haven't asked me anything.”</p><p>“Hermione,” the name growled almost like an expletive, masking a plea that would never be heard by anyone else. </p><p>“Bella,” tone soothing, though beseeching. </p><p>Another spell of silence settled until Bellatrix suddenly snatched the ring from its box and seized Hermione's left hand in hers. “Ugh fine. Will you - ?” But then she paused, the question catching in her throat. This was to be the first time the younger witch was ever proposed to. And if she played her cards right, the last time. This was supposed to be <i>romantic</i>. And yes, the surprise had been ruined, thanks to Cissy and her impatience to start <i>planning</i> what was sure to be the biggest event of the year, but she could see that this was so much more than all that. It meant so much more to her lover, the witch she <i>wanted</i> to marry. Wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Before her, before <i>this</i> she had no life. She had simply existed. But now, now things were different. She was different. And Hermione deserved so much. Braving Muggle London in search of the perfect testament to what she meant had been just the start. She wanted her forever, for always. </p><p>Sucking in a fortifying breath, Bellatrix leaned into her lover, her witch, the woman who had helped forge this second life for her, the life she had wanted for herself when she had been a child ignorant of so many things, so many evils, and let her voice drop to a sultry level, blinking back tears of her own as she brushed her lips against a dampened cheek and whispered, <i>“Mon tout, veux-tu m'épouser?”</i></p><p>A sob fell from from Hermione's lips as she shifted to press her mouth to crimson, tears flowing from both, mingling together. The kiss was tender but deep, conveying all and everything that was, ever had been and ever would be between the two. “Yes,” she murmured on a watery breath, heart full enough to burst, “Oh yes Bella. Yes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Depending on interest, I'll probably do a part two to this writing the wedding.</p><p>Thanks for reading, feedback would be greatly appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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